


Warmth

by Jld71, ShadyB



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 13:43:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14545980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jld71/pseuds/Jld71, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadyB/pseuds/ShadyB
Summary: During the closing moments of Captain America; The Winter Soldier, the Winter Soldier remembers what it was like to be Bucky Barnes and what Steve Rogers meant to him.





	Warmth

**Warmth**

It was right that they called him the Winter Soldier. The inside of his mind was a desolate landscape battered by frigid winds.  Nothing grew there; it contained no color, no warmth.  Not even a memory of warmth.

                And yet…

When he looked upon the unmasked face of his target, the man he had been sent to kill, the Winter Soldier found himself remembering that once there had been something else inside him, something other than the freezing cold.

He remembered a time when he had looked at that face-- those chiseled features and sensual full lips, those brows and eyelashes that were so dark for someone so fair, those eyes the clear blue of a summer lake-- and destruction and killing had been the furthest thing from his mind. He had looked at that face and his heart and body had glowed with warmth.

                They became friends at the orphanage in Brooklyn.  Steve had been there since he was three or four; Bucky didn’t come until he was ten.  James Buchanan Barnes wasn’t really an orphan.  His father was alive and well but locked up in Sing Sing for the murder of his wife, Bucky’s mother.  As far as Bucky was concerned he might as well have been rotting in hell.

Right away, Bucky felt like Steve was special. He cared about things that Bucky had given up on long ago.  Steve was driven to do the right thing no matter what it cost him and he always stood up for what he believed in even when he got his ass kicked because of it on a regular basis. it got his ass kicked.  Sometimes Steve could be exasperating when he refused to accept his own limitations or those of the world they lived in.  Bucky was pretty sure that the good guys didn’t always win and that even if you stood up to a tormenter enough times they wouldn’t give up, they’d put you down for good.  And sometimes the best strategy was to run away.  These were lessons he’d learned from his father and his mother.  They were things Steve should have known—he went through hell in the orphanage, bullied and worse-- but nothing seemed to sour him, make him tough or hard or mean.  His heart remained as big as his eyes were wide.  Bucky couldn’t help but admire that.  He made a point of being around Steve.  To Bucky, being worthy of Steve’s friendship was like the best way not to end up like his father (and he could be so like his father, charming, undisciplined, seeking his pleasure at whatever cost, always looking for the easy way, and quick to turn on those who crossed him). 

Everyone thought that Steve was dependent on Bucky, that he needed Bucky to get him out of scrapes and fight his battles for him, but it was really the other way around. Steve was Bucky’s light in the dark, the only decent person he’d ever met; his only hope to be a better man. 

                When they turned eighteen, Bucky honestly didn’t want to join the Army or go to war (not that he really had a choice.)  He would have very much preferred to live a comfortable, ordinary life.  He had no desire to be a hero, to serve a cause, die nobly.   Steve wasn’t like that.  Though his poor health made him exempt from the army, nothing could deter Steve from trying to enlist again and again.  He was driven to fight for a higher purpose, to stand on the side of right; classic Steve; it was maddening, but admirable.  His example was enough to make Bucky put aside his own doubts, do what he had to do without resentments.

                When Bucky was finished with basic training, he was stationed in New York waiting to be deployed.  Though he’d aged out, Steve was still at the orphanage helping with the younger kids, organizing scrap metal drives and victory gardens.  During this time, Bucky spent as much time as he could around Steve.  It kept him steady, kept him from second thoughts.  This was a strange time in Bucky’s life.  He was a boy playing at being a man.  He looked the part of a soldier but he’d never fought a battle.  Every day he saw the familiar and knew that soon he would leave it forever.  He presented as ready to do his duty but an undercurrent of fear gripped him night and day. 

                One Saturday during this time, the two of them took the train to New Jersey where the orphanage had some land they used for a summer camp.  It was May, too early for the camp to be open and the property was deserted.  Together they’d hiked across the fields and through the forest, until they came to a lake within the woods.  They’d been there years before as campers and always wanted to come back.  Off in the water there was a small island, a cluster of trees at the heart of the lake.  The  boys stripped down to their tighty-whities and swam out. 

The day was warm, but the water was still cold. It didn’t bother Bucky, not giving him more than a few goose-bumps. But when they’d reached the island Steve was blue and his teeth were chattering. 

                Just in land, was a thick carpet of moss and ferns that covered the island’s floor.  Bucky lay down on it.  “Come here,” he said and pulled Steve down onto him so their chests and stomachs were flush together.  Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s back and Bucky held Steve close, letting the heat of his body flow into the other boy.  He parted his thighs so that Steve’s pelvis was against his, threw a leg over Steve’s to maximize their physical contact. 

Gradually, Steve stopped shivering but they continued to lie there together. Bucky could feel Steve’s bones poking out, his ribs and backbone painfully sharp beneath the pale flesh. He cradled Steve’s bird wing shoulder blades protectively with his hands.  It felt so right, to give Steve what he needed, to be so close to him. 

                “Feel better?”  Bucky asked.

                “Really good actually,” Steve said, his voice soft and slightly breathless.

                “Me too.  You feel good.  This is nice.”  Steve shifted ever so slightly, settling into Bucky’s body, his groin sinking even tighter against Bucky’s.  He nearly moaned.  “Really, really nice.”

                By nice, he meant sexy.  He was definitely getting turned on.   

No surprise, Bucky felt sexy most of the time during those days. Since he’d put on the uniform, women had been lining up to take it off him.  In a few weeks he’d gone from being a virgin to not being able to remember all the women he’d gone to bed with.  He walked around in a state of perpetual erotic anticipation.  It served a purpose.  Sensuality blurred the edges of his fear, kept the horror of war just far enough away that he could get up every morning. 

He’d never expected to feel anything like this for Steve, who he’d known forever, but they were so intimate lying there together, so close he couldn’t help himself. He could feel Steve’s (slightly erratic) heartbeat ~~.~~ Steve’s breath was against his cheek, sweet and fresh as mown grass or new milk. 

He looked at Steve’s face and realized he had beautiful lips - lips that were just begging to be kissed. He ran a finger along the swell of Steve’s bottom lip, felt how soft it was.  Steve half smiled, looking confused.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

Bucky traced his upper lip, the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, the fringe of his lashes, stroked his hair.

“Touching you,” he said. Steve breathed in a little faster and looked very concerned, as if he didn’t quite understand what was happening.  Bucky was holding his face in both hands now and he pressed his lips to Steve’s, just fleetingly.  “Kissing you, should I stop?”

“No need to stop,” Steve said, his voice anxious but eager. Bucky kissed him in earnest this time, coaxing his lips apart, touching Steve’s tongue with his own gently, then more forcefully.  Steve was still and stiff like he didn’t know what the polite response was to someone putting their tongue in his mouth.  Of course he didn’t.  He’d never been kissed before.  Realizing that, Bucky felt a wave of affection and then a stab of guilt.  He wondered if Steve had any idea what was happening, if he had any concept of sex.  

Then he felt the hardness against his thigh as Steve shifted his hips, rubbing against him. And Steve’s tongue in his mouth, clumsily imitating what Bucky had been doing.  Steve knew what was happening, wanted it to happen.  Bucky reached down, cradled Steve’s erection with his hand, felt its size and heat as shudders passed through Steve’s body.  It felt so big, so hard that he had to see.  He rolled Steve off him unto his back, then rose up onto his knees and peeled off Steve’s underwear, freeing his erection. 

Steve had felt so light when he’d been on top of Bucky, he seemed almost childlike. But it was obvious he was an adult when you saw him aroused, his long, thick cock lying against the concave curve of his belly. He was remarkably well endowed, for such a little guy.  Crouching on all fours above him, Bucky kissed Steve again.  As he did he felt Steve tugging at his underwear, yanking it down to his knees so his hard-on bobbed free.  Steve’s hands were on his belly, his thighs, then holding his erection, stroking it.  He lowered himself down onto Steve so their cocks were just touching and Steve bucked up against him, rubbed their cocks together, panting. 

Bucky moaned hard, he couldn’t help dropping his full weight onto Steve, thrusting against him. Steve’s legs opened to him, and wrapped tight around his hips.  They writhed and rolled together in the moss, rubbing against each other, each holding the other as tight as he could.  As the intensity mounted Bucky found himself moaning, crying out but Steve continued to remain silent except for his sometimes labored breath.  Bucky wondered if he was hurting him.  How could he not be hurting him, grinding against his bones with all the force he could muster?  Steve’s eyes were screwed shut, his jaw clenched.  He’d never say if it hurt, never ask Bucky to stop simply because it was causing him pain.  That wasn’t Steve.

It was hard, but Bucky broke the escalating rhythm, pulled himself away from Steve, back unto his hands and knees. Steve tried to pull him back with his arms and his legs.

“Don’t stop,” he said. “I can take it.”

Bucky only shook his head. He silenced Steve with a kiss then began to work his way down, kissing and licking his throat and collarbone, down to his narrow, hairless chest.  He teased Steve’s nipples with teeth and tongue till Steve was almost crying, before tracing the furrow of Steve’s ribs and the taut hollow of his stomach, finally reaching his erection.  He slid his hands under Steve’s hard, flat buttocks, fingers sinking into them, lifting them up as he took Steve’s hard-on into his mouth.  He took it as deep as he could, working Steve with his lips and tongue.  Steve was whimpering now, thrashing, his legs wrapped tight around Bucky’s neck, fingers in his hair.  As Bucky sucked him, his body grew taut as a bowstring ready to loose an arrow, but just as they seemed about to reach the moment of climax, Steve gasped, “stop.”

Bucky did stop, lifted his face, his smeared mouth. Steve wriggled free of him, and staggered to his feet.  Crossing the narrow beach, he plunged into the cold water and walked out a moment later, all evidence of his arousal gone, his cock shrunken small and soft as if nothing had happened between them.  He lay down beside Bucky and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do it.”

“Is it… did I remind you of bad things that happened to you?” Bucky asked.  There had been rumors in school, back in the orphanage, about larger, stronger boys using Steve sexually, forcing themselves on him.  He didn’t know if they were true or not.  Steve wasn’t one to complain, even when he ought to.  Steve always seemed to have black eyes and bruises, but he never named names and he never gave details of how far things might have gone.  The idea that he might have brought Steve back to some moment of violation made him feel sick.  It must have shown on his face, Steve must have seen it.  He sat up, pulling himself together.

“No,” he said firmly. He was quick to reassure his friend despite his own recent distress.  “It isn’t that.  What you were doing, what _we_ were doing, it wasn’t like those other times I’ve… done things… when things have been done to me.  That was just like getting beat up.  It wasn’t anything like that with you.  It felt good, I liked it, I wanted it. I want you, but I can’t, not now, not like this…”

                “Like what?  What wrong?”  Bucky could accept that his erection was going to wilt. As unsatisfied as he was, he didn’t care about that.  He just wanted to understand. 

“I’m nothing,” Steve said, looking down, not daring to meet Bucky’s eyes. “Bucky.  James.  You’re strong, you’re a soldier, a man.  I’m nothing.  Maybe we can be together someday, if I ever make something of myself but right now, you deserve so much better.  You should be with someone who’s equal to you; a really gorgeous dame or if it’s a guy you want, one who’s strong and brave like you.  I’m a sick, weak nothing who has nothing to offer you…”

Bucky shook his head.

“That’s not true, Steve,” he said. “Dressing like a soldier doesn’t make me brave.  I’m scared all the time and I do whatever I can to make that fear go away, even if it’s wrong.  Sleeping around, drinking.  I’ll end up just like my old man if I don’t have you to look up to.  You’re more than my equal Steve, I look up to you.  I admire you.  You don’t have anything to prove to me, Steve.”

“I guess I have something to prove to myself.”

Nothing like that ever happened between them again.

Bucky went off to war. Steve changed completely, and not at all.  The Super Soldier Serum gave him the outside ~~s~~ to match his inside ~~s~~ , to be the hero he was meant to be.  He became Captain America and they were soldiers together, friends and brothers fighting side by side.  When he was captured by the Nazi’s, Bucky had been tortured, experimented on.  He’d come face to face with his greatest fear, complete powerlessness and found the strength to keep fighting.  After that, fear didn’t get in his way like it used to.  He wondered if that was why Steve was so brave, because he’d known from a very young age that he could survive powerlessness.  It made him admire Steve all the more.

Sometimes he wished they could be close again, intimate like that day on the island in the lake. He knew it wasn’t going to happen.  Steve was hung up on Agent Carter and a guy like Steve would be loyal, even to an unrequited crush.  Besides, the cold didn’t bother Steve anymore, not even the bleakness of a winter on the Russian front.  He would never have a reason to draw Steve to him, to give Steve what he wanted.  Still, he longed in his heart of hearts, for Steve to give himself over to him and be his entirely. 

Then he fell, fell into an icy hell and everything Bucky Barnes had been or felt or yearned for ceased to be.

It was only when the Target took off his mask and refused to fight him that he remembered a long ago warmth between them. In that gesture of surrender he was no longer Captain America.  He was Steve Rogers finally giving himself to Bucky Barnes.  Maybe that was why the Winter Soldier found himself contradicting his programing by fishing his Target’s inert body out of the Potomac River, leaving him alive and unconscious on the shore.  

As he did, he felt a nearly irresistible urge to lie beside the man, hold him in his arms, and warm himself. Then the ice closed around his heart and he walked away,


End file.
